


House of Heroes: Gauvain Backstory

by afterdungeons (afterandalasia)



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Anti-Tiefling Sentiment (Dungeons & Dragons), D&D Character Backstory, Gen, Inspired by Roleplay/Roleplay Adaptation, Tieflings (Dungeons & Dragons), rogues - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 01:47:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29092257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterandalasia/pseuds/afterdungeons
Summary: D&D character backstory - tiefling rogue, thief and non-violent criminal given a second chance and working to turn his life around under the (monitored) employment of the local nobility.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've not yet started playing this character, but I've got the (questionable) accent sorted and it looks like schedules should start lining up next month.

“Ah, so this is the final test, then? To see if I am worthy of your master’s goodwill?”

Even with his hands manacled to the table, the tiefling gave a winning smile to both the scribe and the military officer facing him. His tail flicked behind him, not lazily but with a focused snap of movement that matched the fix of his eyes; the white orbs made it impossible to see as his gaze flicked back and forth between them, unless someone chanced to be looking at the most minute movements of his eyelids. It was unlikely. After a moment, he settled on the scribe; _she_ looked more like the decision-maker. The soldier was just muscle.

“House Pegason is making a final review of your case,” she said levelly, taking a seat opposite him. Her gaze did not falter even when taking in his devilish features, which he had to appreciate. “They would like a single statement to be taken. Your story in your words.”

“My story,” he echoed, with a half smile and a flicker of movement at his brow. “Of course, why not? One more time.”

Shifting his hands to someone more comfortable against the metal, and curling his tail up around him, he waited for her to prepare her parchment and quill.

“My name is Gauvain. For a surname, well, you will find my father under the name Bechard, if you search hard enough, but I do not think he would appreciate me claiming that to be my… family name.” His tone was that of a casual observation, one that he had made many times before. “I suppose you could say Gauvain the Red, should the need arise.”

The woman paused for a moment, then delicately dipped the quill into the ink and began her writing. “Gauvain the Red, then,” she said mildly.

“Many babies are born a little red,” Gauvain continued, with a twist of a joke in his tone. “But not so many with a tail, ouais? But there I was, born a little devilish. My mother blamed my father, my father blamed my mother, you know.” He shrugged, tone still light and casual. “The village priest could not say for sure, so to be safe he said that both of them were probably at fault. For some reason this did not help matters much; I cannot imagine why.”

Only the flick of the end of his tail gave lie to the calm way in which he spoke. He watched as the woman wrote, his eyes taking in the movement of her quill in a way that probably looked simply as if he were politely waiting so as not to rush her. At least, that was the air of it all.

“That sort of thing does not make for the most welcoming home, you know? We all had our vices. Mine was to find friends who did not mind the way I looked, even if they were a little… disreputable, let us say. Reputation was not the foremost thing on my mind.

“Still, I managed my education well enough,” he added. He glanced up at the soldier standing off to the side with a cock of his head, and offered a disarmingly friendly smile. “My letters and my numbers, as it were. Turned out I had a knack for languages. Strange, eh?” His accent remained strong even as he spoke, eyes glittering as if imparting some sort of secret.

He turned back to the scribe again, waited once more for her to reach the end of what she was writing.

“It is so easy to… break a little rule here and there. Skip class. Steal an apple. Climb over a fence to gather acorns. _Bof_ , I knew it was wrong, but… it did not seem important, you know? It did not hurt people. Plenty of the other children would do such things from time to time. My problem was that I did it…” he paused, expression not giving away whether it was hesitation or dramatic effect. “A little too often, let us say.

“Do you want the whole sordid list of my crimes?” He asked, still apparently casual though his smile had faded now. There was something a little more tired around the set of his eyes, smile looking momentarily forced before it smoothed back to casual. His clothes were dusty, greying, his hair with a greasy look in its long braid, for all the casual confidence with which he held himself. “I gave up quite the list, I appreciate. Did my best to remember them all, even the ones they had not found out about yet.”

“I think a summary will do well enough,” the scribe replied mildly, glancing up from her writing for just a moment.

Gauvain bought his tail up to scratch the side of his neck, not twitching his hands in their irons. “That will save us both time, thank you,” he said, warmth in the words certainly sounding real whether it actually was or not. “A little theft here, a little trespassing there. Shining up the odd item to sell for more than it was worth. Skipping out on my rent.” Another louche shrug. “I simply did not have the money for things, so I did not pay. The longer I went without being able to find a job that did not mind a tiefling, the harder it became. I guess I gave up, a little. It was easier just to take things.”

The slightest edge came into his voice, a tinge of anger at his former self leaking through. Gauvain paused, looking back to the scribe’s writing again as he took a couple of deep breaths. It would not show in his expression as he gathered his calm hold on himself again.

“And then, well, there is the matter that landed me here,” he said. One finger circled to gesture at the jail cell around them, still without a single clink from the irons. “Would you like to hear that again?”

“In brief,” the woman said curtly. Her eyes were icy blue as they fixed him for a moment, unflinching against the blank white stare they must have found.

Sitting back in his chair and crossing his legs under the table, Gauvain nodded in acknowledgement. “I took it too far, of course. Came to the city proper and… well. I had recently found myself come into new… skills. They do not exactly make up for this devil’s face, but… well, if I have them then why not use them, no? And my writing is… let us say I have some talent with a quill and ink,” he said, and for the first time the scribe hesitated in her writing, ink beading slightly at the nib of the quill.

Was she wondering, as so many did, whether he had been watching to see how she crafted her hand, so that he would be able to later copy it? It would take more than that to make a good replica, but he could probably manage a fair one from what he had seen already. Gauvain could almost see the thoughts going through her mind, as he had seen so many others pass through the same realisations.

“I took on a nobleman’s disguise, and tried to withdraw money in his name. It was not much,” he added, tone almost playful but not quite rounding out the tone of it this time. “Not much for him, at least – plenty for me. But it turns out he kept one signature for his letters,” Gauvain cocked his head to one side, then to the other, “and another for his cheques. And so I stand before you – well, sit before you – without even a truly impressive crime to my name.”

The scars across the bridge of his nose and cutting through his eyebrow gave an edge to his suave demeanour, but the careful trim of his nails and the delicate surety of his hands was not feigned.

“Well, it is not impressive that concerns us,” said the woman briskly. She set the first sheet of parchment aside, ink still glistening in the air in a way that Gauvain could not help his eyes flitting to, and readied a second. “So tell me, what do you hope to do if House Pegason grants you a second chance? What do you think you can offer them?”

The light-heartedness left his expression, even as the smile remained. “Offer me a place that does not call me devil-child, and I will take it. If I have a job, what need do I have to steal? I would do things differently if I had the chance now, but what did I know as a child? That it was easier to steal one loaf of bread from a baker who many than it was to face my parents, or to find someone who would even offer a few coppers for me to run errands for them.” His tail slithered from his lap to swish just above the floor, flicking like a cat’s just at the end of each sweep. “I did not understand what would be easier in the long run.

“As for my skills, well. I am hard to catch, even harder to hit. I know the ways of criminals, to know one when I see one, perhaps better than the guards who chase them. After all, I have met the ones who do _not_ get caught. My blade, if you would have it, though no doubt you have plenty of people to offer those.” He spoke with the confidence of fact, that time; House Pegason certainly did not have to fear a lack of manpower to its ranks. “But I am good at making, let us say… more precise strikes.

“I can offer you my tongue, all four of them in fact,” he added, and as the scribe frowned and looked up something of a smile returned to him. “Common, Dwarvish, Elvish, Infernal. As I said, I have a knack. The language of thieves, for that matter, although that is something which crosses peoples. I have a knack for calligraphy, as well,” he added, and watched as there was just another minute hesitation in the movement of the woman’s quill, “though I fear my other skills would be wasted if you were to have me illustrating books.”

To be fair, it did not sound unpleasant, at least as a pastime. Gauvain knew full well he would have too much drive, too much curiosity, to stick at it for too long.

“But for all that I look… well,” he said, pressing his lips together for a moment in thought. “Perhaps my tiefling nature might give people pause that I am not so delicate as I might first appear.” Another twitch of his tail. The cut of his clothes, even wearing and aging as they were, only emphasised his slim build. “Give me fire or ice to place my hand in, I do not fear it. I am hardier than I look, one might say.”

The scribe finished off her notes with an air of finality, setting the quill aside as she nudged the second piece of parchment slightly away. Gauvain watched carefully, with an air of general attentiveness rather than allowing his nerves to show through on such a matter. If they did not want him well… it would not be as if they were the first. He would find a way around things, as he always did. Fast hands and a little bit of magic were enough for any number of things. But, as much as he kept his expression calm…

He could not help but feel a flicker of that old childish feeling of hope.


	2. Character Intro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of chapters of intro, meant for the other players rather than the DM who gets the full deal.

With his unexceptional height [5'8"] and slim figure, Gauvain would not draw that much attention were it not for the devilish blood that shows itself in him. His skin is a smoke-tinged red, horns sweep back from his temples, and a long dextrous tail whips and flicks expressively behind him. He has a few small scars, notably across the bridge of his nose and cutting through one eyebrow, but has managed to keep his slender hands unmarked. He is as fastidious as he can manage to be about his clothing, which is as good as he can generally afford and about which he cannot help a hint of vanity.

Charming to the verge of flirtatious, he responds intently to the moods and behaviour of those around him, and has benefited significantly from the year or so that he has spent in the company of House Pegason's retained staff. Young and still malleable, he has been reactive to the 'good influences' of others.

He does not shy away from admitting to his history skirting on the wrong side of the law, although he will emphasise that his past was not *violent*. He is genuine in his desire to make the most of the second chance he has been given by House Pegason, for all that the temptation to quick deceptions and cons occasionally still stirs in him.

Foltaire - Gauvain admires Foltaire, not just in dress and fighting style but in dedication to a cause. 

Saqib - Saqib is fascinating to Gauvain, although he cannot help a little jealousy about the happy family that the aaracokra has bought with them. He does not always know how to approach or talk to the druid, their age and wisdom daunting, but certainly respects them.


End file.
